Nefarious
by Earth gave me life
Summary: He was evil. All had come to fear him. But when the insane discovers its superior, when the monster faces it's mistress will he submit or try conquer her. Rated MA for language, graphic violence and explicit sex
1. Snake in the grass

I – Snake in the grass

'_It was once said that the darkness called a gathering of virgins to give themselves to the father of sin. Each came wanting and willing to their beloved master. They harbored in the woods of France, near two days walk south of Paris. Danced with fire and drank blood from the sacrificial lamb. In the last remnants of twilight on All Soul's day the Black Coven was seeded. _

_From the coven three daughters were born. Three crows birthed to be a plague on mankind's pathetic reign. In their ruin many lives were lost. Children missing, men and women left in the woods tortured and disemboweled. The livestock slaughtered, missing hearts, tongues and eyes. _

_It took years of searching but two of the witches, Madam Maria Daniella Bennett and Regine-Yvette Doux were ultimately collected and tried for their crimes against the people and country. 37 documented counts of kidnapping. 43 documented counts of murder._

_Both were burned at the stake. _

_The third crow, the shameless tyrant, was never captured. She was devious and impossibly cunning, fading into the shadows out of man's reach. The taste of her venom and the weight of her cruelty scorched through the land like wildfire. Yet she was never satisfied. Her hunger never fed, her thirst never quenched. She wanted more. She needed it. _

_In the peak of her fury, when villages were left to crumble to ash and bodies were strung on rotting trees, she vanished. There was no trace of her. Many prayed God had smite her to the ground. Others came to believe she was defeated by an angle. And some rumored the devil grew jealous of her work and stole her back to hell to be his harlot._

_She disappeared, as did her legend._

_As did her name.'_

"Who could believe such a foolish tale," a young boy, no older than fourteen grumbled while closing the book in his hands.

"I thought boys and girls believed in fairytales." A woman remarked, drawing near to the boy. She was dressed in a dark plum dress, almost the shade of black and a grey cape that laid on top of her shoulders. Her hair was a mad fit of black curls pulled into a messy bun that sat on top of her head, accenting her bronzed face. It was a rarity to see a French woman with such dark skin. She looked like one of the slaves that spent their days outside in the fields. Tanned relatively darker than a Grecian.

She took the book from his hands and examined its cover thoughtfully. The boy scowled getting up from his seat on a fallen tree. "That is no fairytale Adalinda. That is a nightmare some old fool made to frighten little children. I am not a child, and I am not so easily frightened."

"Of course young master," Adalinda smiled, handing the book back to him.

"Do you think it to be true?" He questioned while taking the book back. He walked over to the horse tied up to a near tree and placed it in his satchel knotted to the side of the saddle, "tell me witch, had you ever met any of the crows in your travels?"

"They were executed," she stated in dark amusement.

"All but one," he corrected.

"Yes," her eyes met the boys hazel ones. "All but one."

"A shame they aren't around anymore. I'd wager two franks you could beat them," he boasted childishly. "High and mighty witches killed off like common rats. They could not withstand you. It is hard to think you all came from the same coven."

"Indeed, we are all sisters in some way," Adalinda stepped closer to the dying fire she had made hours before and kicked the loose dirt into it with her leather boot. "But every family has a prodigal child. Rats not even the father can love."

It was quiet then, except for the light rain starting to hit the branches and leaves of the forest they traveled in. Adalinda looked over at the boy considering him for a moment. Dacey was his name; a young French lad deemed an outcast to most that encountered him. When he was eight years of age he watched his mother and father murdered. Hung from an old oak for stealing the tithe from the church. The people banished the boy, naming him filth of sinners. He was forced to drag their bodies out of the village,the only thing he left with save the clothes on his back. She reminisced the time when she had found him, the pitiful state he was in.

* * *

"Boy," the twigs beneath her boot cracked as she approached. "Why are you here?"

The young child kneeling in front of the two unmarked graves turned and looked over his shoulder. He wiped his tear-stained cheek with his little dirty hand. He was a mess. His brown locks were clumped and matted to his scalp and his clothes were weathered and torn.

"What an ugly sight you are," she laughed. Her gaze lifted from him to the grounds around them, searching for any other dwellers. But the wood was quiet, not even a crying bird. "Did your parents leave you boy? Disgusted by the looks of you. I would if you were my child."

"Shut up!" He snapped, barring his teeth in anger.

The woman continued to laugh and walked closer till she was only a few steps away. Quicker than he could react she kicked him in the face, sending him into the wet mud. He cried out and laid on the ground holding his bruising cheek.

"I'd watch your tongue, unless you prefer me to cut it out," she warned and stepped over him, bringing her attention to the graves. "I rather enjoy the taste of tongue."

"You wouldn't," he shrieked in terror.

"I would and will if you do not shut your mouth," she bent down and examined the two poorly constructed stick crosses, rammed unceremoniously into the ground. "Tell me boy, who are these souls your pray for?"

"My…my," he couldn't finish as fresh tears ran down his cheeks. The obvious turmoil he displayed made it clear who was buried.

"I see."

A silence lingered between them.

Grey clouds slowly rolled in, covering the sky in darkness.

"What a shame," the woman whispered and pulled the crosses from the ground. She wrapped her hands around the sticks and snapped them in half.

"No!" The boy shouted in horror, running to her. He started hitting her side as hard as he could. "What are you doing? Have you no respect? You beast!"

Unfazed by his attack, she tossed the broken sticks on the ground and turned to look down at him.

"What is your name boy," she demanded. When he did not answer she gripped his hands mid strike and proceeded to crush them. He cried out in great pain and dropped to his knees in hopes to loosen her grip.

"Dacey! My name is Dacey."

Pleased with his response she released her hold.

"See that was not so hard, was it Dacey?"

"Why?" Dacey sobbed. "Why would you disgrace them?"

"They were already disgraced. No proper burial, not proper grave heads."

"I hate you!" Dacey spat and turned back to the graves. "You evil witch!"

"I am guilty, but it is my nature," she mused, kneeling down next to him in the wet dirt. "You should not mourn the dead. They are a lifeless feast for the worms and nothing more."

"So you admit it then. Only fitting I be plagued by the wicked. You are just like them, just as cruel," he cried. "Damn them! Damn you!"

"Yes, damn us all for our transgressions," she huffed with an indifferent tone. "All of us are sinners Dacey. The true feat is whether one can create a vice or virtue from it."

Dacey sniffed and wiped his eyes, "what?"

"I could help you, if revenge it what you seek," her voice lowered to a dark whisper, eyes darkening to coal. "What would you be willing to pay to see their ruin?"

Dacey remained silent. unsure of what she was plotting.

"What is your desire boy?"

"…I want them to hurt. I want them to suffer," he finally whispered.

"Suffer? How lovely," she grinned, taking hold of the boy. She dragged him through the dirt, and brought him into her bosom, caressing his filthy hair. "And what would you give for this to transpire? How much is their pain worth to you?"

"Everything," he closed his eyes at the warmth of her. Slowly his small arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her like he would his own mother. "What is your name witch?"

She smiled.

"Adalinda."

* * *

"Tell me, Adalinda, if they are rats what are you?" Dacey inquired while mounting his horse.

The woman grinned, pulling her hood up over her head to block the rain.

"I am the snake that eats the rats."


	2. Delilah

II - Delilah

"Where are we?" Dacey yelled ahead, he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. The rain had died down to a soft trickle but it was growing colder. The woods thickened quite a bit in the day of walking; the tree tops casted a heavy shadow on their path.

"We left the lands of Bulgaria near three hours ago, young Master. We are in Romania now," Adalinda called out. She had traveled ahead to scout the area as well had hunt for their dinner; already she had tracked down a pair of rabbits that she would roast. Stringing them up, she walked back up the dirt path to the boy.

"We will make camp here," she said. Dacey nodded and dismounted his horse.

"How long till we reach the city of Chisinau?" He asked, untying his dampened pack.

"About a week…" Adalinda paused and looked ahead. A glimpse of movement between the trees caught her attention. Quickly she raised her hand, motioning for Dacey to stop moving. Dacey held on to the reigns of his horse, calming the beast as his eyes followed hers.

Stepping closer Adalinda looked into the woods searching for the movement she just caught.

"What do you see?" Dacey quietly asked following her gaze into the shadows that were slowly overlooking the trees. Even behind the dark grey clouds he knew the sun would be setting fairly soon.

Feeling the ominous presence in the dark Adalinda rushed back to Dacey, handed him the rabbits and pushed him towards the nearby brush, "hide and do not reveal yourself until I come for you."

Dacey obeyed, moving into the bushes and crouched low. He watched as Adalinda mounted the horse. With the click of her tongue, she egged him to move forward.

"Stay silent," she ordered. "If something should happen while I am away, summon me."

She kicked the horse's side and trotted into the forest.

* * *

Riding slowly, Adalinda cast her gaze either side of her into the gapes of trees, searching for whatever stalked in the darkness. She could hear the footsteps mucking about in the wet mud; by the sounds of it there were not many, maybe two or three. But the shadows cloaked them well enough that she could not tell where they stood.

"I demand you show yourself," she yelled but no response came. Her patience was thinning. She moved for the horse to turn around when she finally heard someone speak.

"_Halt woman!" _a male voice ordered in Romanian.

Adalinda snapped her head to where the voice had called. From the west of the woods emerged two soldiers clad in black armor; their eyes full of malice and faces contorted in anger.

"_What gives you right to enter the domain of our Prince and Lord?_" The larger of the two barked, raising his sword towards her. The man's arms were bare showing the many scars littering his arm and the dirt that stained his skin. Clearly he was a seasoned warrior; his intimidating aura would certainly make most men piss themselves.

With light humor Adalinda raised her chin and dared to look him in the eyes. Her hand floated and caressed her steed's mane, calming the beast till he settled his stance.

"_Is this the hospitality of Wallachia? My, I'm curious what your commander would say of your behavior solider._"

"_Do not act so familiar with our Lord, wench_," the smaller, younger one intervened rather rudely. He looked just a few years older than Dacey and was clearly new to the art of combat by his stance. Both his hands gripped the hilt of his sword tightly; his arms stiff and nearly trembling from the weight of his blade.

"_Off your horse! Now_!" he commanded.

Adalinda grinned wickedly.

"_I'd rather not_."

The young soldier growled, annoyed by her disobedience. He stepped forward, bringing the tip of his sword high enough to touch her cheek, "_I will not tell you again bitch_."

"_I admire your loyalty to your country soldier…but I would suggest you lower your sword_," the amusement in her eyes vanished quickly and now bore a more sinister light. She stared deeply into his eyes feeling the anxiety creep into his mind. Lips sealed shut and eyes fixed on her being. His pale skin lightened to a sickly white covered in a fevered sweat. The older man noticed the change in him and asked if he was well, but the solider remained unmoving and eerily silent.

"_Your weapon_," Adalinda cooed darkly, "_lower it now_."

Like a slave to his master the soldier obediently did as he was told, though a great struggle was seen in his eyes. He took a few steps back, shaking his head as if to free the grogginess in his mind. Satisfied, Adalinda turned her witching gaze to the other soldier and beckoned him to her command. To her surprise she found him much more pliable than his ill-mannered companion.

"_Your name_," she inquired.

Quick to bent knee, he pierced his sword in the ground and lowered his head submissively, "_Agád Dery_."

"Sir _Agád_," Adalinda smiled sweetly, "_I desire your friend's hand_."

A simple request.

With no hesitation or remorse Agád rose up removing his sword from the earth and snatched his delirious companion's wrist. One forceful swipe was all it took to detach the appendage. The removal of the extremity awoke the young soldier from his stupor. The pain sent him to his knees. Bringing his bloody arm to his chest, he screamed in pure agony.

Agád, apathetic by his friend's cries, brought the hand before Adalinda and knelt again. He rose the hand up to her like an offering.

"_And what goes on here_?" A deep voiced inquired.

A dreary silence hung in the air.

From the shadows she watched a tall figure appear clad in a similar dark armor as the soldiers before her, yet much more menacing. A wine red cape laid off of his shoulders, the length of it nearly touching the ground. Adalinda lifted her gaze and admired his face. Like an apparition he glowed in the moonlight, framed by inking locks cascading down past his shoulders. Handsome but terrifying. A frown adorned his pale lips and an evil tint in his eyes.

"_Agád_?" He inquired, but the soldier remained a statue kneeled in front of the dark skinned woman.

"_My Prince_," the younger one cried, shaking feverously from the pain and loss of blood.

"_Sir Agád was teaching this brat how to behave in the presence of a lady_," Adalinda informed.

The Prince's thick brow rose in fascination and stepped closer to the kneeling soldier, grabbing the offered hand. He inspected the cut of it then placed it back in Agád's hands.

"_And what need would you have for a hand, my Lady_."

"_Perhaps a meal_," she replied indifferently.

A twisted smirk formed on his face, quite pleased with her answer. Moving closer to her, he raised an armored hand and touched the horse's snout with an unexpected gentleness. "_Could such an offensive thing have a pleasant taste_?"

"_Positively exquisite_," she cooed shamelessly.

"_My Lord_," the forgotten soldier wheezed, nearly succumbed by the pain.

"_Agád_," the Prince commanded, annoyed by the interruption. He turned to the frozen man and barked, "_Silence him_."

Adalinda looked passed the Prince to Agád and nodded her head, agreeing with the command. Springing to life Agád rose and took his sword to the wounded man, slashing his chest deeply.

"_What can I do for you, my lady_?" The Prince asked deeply curious of her purpose in his lands.

"_Give me water_," she demanded. The Prince grinned, amused by her request and reached out his hand to the soldier giving a silent command. Agád moved forward, unlatching the sheepskin from his belt, and handed it to his leader. Uncorking the top the Prince offered the drink to her. Nodding her head in gratitude Adalinda took the skin and brought the opening to her lips. She drank a healthy amount of water before returning the skin.

"_Thank you, my lord_."

He chuckled, "_I am neither your lord nor prince. You do not hail from Wallachia nor are you a slave, servant or noblewoman of my land_."

Adalinda nodded her head and smirked, "_Indeed. Then what shall I call you_?"

"_What would you call me, my lady_?"

"_By your name, if you would give it to me_."

A devious grin crept on his lips, "_you may call me Vlad_."

She leaned down, delighted by the faintest shiver he displayed just then. She drew her lips close to his ear, and touched the heated flesh, "_and so I shall Vlad_."


	3. Devour

**A/N: I meant to have this out Monday but the new job prevented me to get it done :3 thanks for waiting. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

"_Italic" _= speaking in Romanian

III - Devour

"_And_ _what name shall I call you, my lady,_" the tone in his voice had lowered a notch, vibrating deliciously down her spine.

"_Very few have been privileged to my name_," she noted teasingly as her eyes glanced back towards the way she had come. In the back of her mind the unavoidable call of her master clawed, pulling her away from the moment. He was impatient and nervous. The time for her to return to his side was drawing close. Her discontent must have shown on her face for Vlad reached up and touched his armored fingers to her cheek. She looked back at him and in return she reached her hand out, brushing it through his long raven hair. The image of him beneath her, eyes clouded in passion and beautiful hair caught in her fingers as she rode him played in her head.

"_It is Adalinda_," she breathed out, bringing strands of his hair up to her nose. The smell was enticing; musk and cloves. A smile lined her face as she listened to him test her name on his tongue; it sounded lovely. A sound she would deeply enjoy hearing him call out over and over again. Slowly she released his hair and started to straighten her posture but stopped when his hand moved to the back of her neck. He gripped it firmly and pulled her face down to his, touching his lips to her cheek. Instinctively she moved her head and brought her lips to his, locking them in a kiss. But in the kiss she felt the terrifying essence of his power. She pulled away quickly, almost shaking at the vision of his dark purpose. It caught her of guard.

"_Lady Adalinda_?" he inquired. A charming smirk lined his mouth as he watched her, curious of her sudden shift in demeanor. Realizing she was showing him weakness she sat up straight and cleared her throat.

"_I have no use for such titles, Vlad. Please do not waste your breath with them_," she huffed in her flustered state.

Once again the call of Master was ringing in her head.

"_Sadly, I must leave you now," _she said in slight annoyance, "_and return to the companion I travel with_."

The Prince nodded his head.

"_Very well. However you and your companion will come to my home_," He told her rather bluntly, leaving no room for her to rebuttal. "_You will be my guests as long as I see fit_."

He turned his attention to his soldier who stood silently nearby.

"_See to it she arrives tonight_."

"_Yes my Prince_," Agád nodded his head in acknowledgment and moved to stand next to the woman.

Adalinda sat silently and watched as Vlad stepped close to her once more, taking hold of her bare hand. He brought the warm flesh to his pale lips and kissed it slowly with an honest gentleness. But she was not fooled. The lack of virtue in his eyes made is clear of his true thoughts and desires. The sight stirred her own wants. She glanced down at his thumb rubbing against her knuckles as though no armor divided them.

"_I look forward to seeing you again, Adalinda_," he kissed her hand one last time, "_my lovely little temptress_."

And with that was gone, back into the darkened forest. She watched him disappear with a wild grin on her face.

_**She would have him.**_

Adalinda momentarily looked to Agád, then guided the horse back up path she came to her most impatient master. The soldier followed behind her silently.

The two arrived at her camp swiftly and Adalinda called out for Dacey to come out from the bushes, which he did in a great spectacle of frustration; a few twigs and leaves had entangled themselves in his brown locks.

"What took you so long," he grumbled. He stopped wiping the dirt from his pants when he noticed the newcomer. "Who is that Adalinda?"

She smiled innocently.

"This is Sir Agád Dery, soldier and servant of His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wallachia."

"And why is he here?" His tone turned sore, as he was deeply annoyed by the man's presence.

"We have been welcomed as guests to the Prince's castle. Sir Agád is here to escort us," she explained, dismounting from the horse. "Collect your things and we will be on our way."

Dacey remained quiet for a moment, pondering the situation. He was not one to trust. It had taken him a long time to rely on Adalinda but even then he did not believe she truly had his best interests at heart. With the contract he had made with her, it was clear he would ultimately lose in the end. Finally at a decision he furrowed his brow and tightened his lip.

"No."

Adalinda glared back at the boy viciously, immediately making him regret his defiance.

"You will do as I say, boy," her voice was dark and thick, sending the cold air impossibly still. Dacey's mouth went dry at the sight of her. Eyes blackened, teeth sharp and the color of copper; stained from the blood of all she had consumed.

This was what waited him; this was the monster he had bargained with seven years ago.

* * *

It was a red dawn and her feast waited.

Glimmers of crimson and fire molted into the dark blue sky; the glow of the sun rising from behind the mountains. Her shadow stretched down the lone road where not a mile away sat the village, quiet and resting. The fabric of her plum skirts dragged heavy behind her in the dirt as she slithered closer. Soft lips expelling white puffs of breath. Curly hair blowing wild in the windless air.

She could smell it. Smell the divine nectar in every home. Warm liquid begging to touch her parched tongue.

Finally she arrived at the old metal gate, lingering near it like an ominous specter as she casted a binding spell. No one would enter and no one would leave this day. Behind the stone wall she could hear a beating heart, someone was there alone. Raising her hand to the wall, her black nails extended and sunk into the stone and with a mighty force she ripped a whole in it. The rubble crumbled at her feet as she leaned her head through the newly made entrance. Dark eyes roamed till she spotted the gatekeeper to the left of her, unaware of her silent intrusion. Aloof of her presence, he sat in a wooden chair reading his book in the dim light of the lantern posted above his head. She contorted through the hole and floated towards him, hugging the wall like a fly. Once she hovered above him she abandoned her solid form and dissolved into a mass of inky vines.

The gatekeeper shuddered, feeling suddenly cold and looked up. A gasp of terror left his lips before her being covered him, knocking him off the chair and onto the ground. The dark matter surrounded him like a cocoon, cracking his bones as she wrapped tighter around him. Minutes later she pulled away, leaving him soulless. She murmured some incantation and conjured the body to rise before her now materializing figure.

"Burn it all," her voice echoed around the body and watched as it limped and stumbled off down the road.

She walked to the first house in sight and with the simplest hex unlocked the front door. In a gust of wind and dark fabric she flew into the house and up the stairs where she found a mother sleeping with her two daughters. Whispering in the dark, she called upon the girls to get out of bed and come to her. Trapped in their sleeping haze they did not see or feel as the witch stabbed into their chests with her sharp nails and remove their hearts. The sound of the bodies hitting the floor stirred the mother from her sleep. She looked over at the intruder then her daughters on the ground and went into a panic, but before she could scream an unseen force took hold of her neck and broke it.

Laughing at the woman's body falling back on the bed, Adalinda devoured the hearts in a bloody mess; red liquid running down her chin onto her dark dress. She moaned in satisfaction, feeling a surge of energy run through her veins. Once she had finished she left the house and the bodies to rot. Stepping back into the street there were fires already blazing homes and the terror filled screams of the people echoed in the streets. Amused, she stood and watched the chaos. Bodies bursting from their homes in flames, men banging at the sealed gate as others crowded around them, pushing and shoving one another in hopes of being the first out. Swine in their cage trying to escape the butcher's blade.

A wicked cackle erupted from her lungs as she walked towards them.

* * *

"Fine," Dacey nodded and mounted the horse. "We shall go."

It took near an hour to reach the stone castle were the Prince resided. Even in the dark one could see the magnitude of it. Once they entered the courtyard they were greeted by two servants. One quickly led their horse away, presumably to the stables while the other escorted them to the main entrance and into the lavished home.

Tapestries covering the walls, rich Hungarian rugs laid out on the ground; it truly was a lovely sight. Dacey gawked, memorized by the luxuries he never had the privilege to enjoy. But Adalinda had something, rather someone on her mind distracting her from the new sights. She was impatient. She wanted to see him again. In a huff she turned to the servant who waited patiently behind them.

"_Where is Vlad_," she asked. The servant boy looked up at her in shock but was quick to recover and bowed his head again.

"_The Prince has retired to his chambers, my lady_," he replied quietly.

Adalinda's jaw tightened. That would not do.

"_Where is his chambers, I wish to see him_."

Again the boy looked up, this time terrified at her bold request._ He swallowed nervously and looked to_ the set of stairs lining the left wall of the entrance hall.

"_His chambers reside in the west wing of the castle, but…_," he was not able to continue as Adalinda suddenly moved towards the stairs.

"_Wait my lady_!" The servant called after her.

Dacey, curious of her intentions tried to follow but was stopped by Agád grabbing his shoulder. The boy looked back at the soldier and saw him shake his head no. Agád turned and led him the opposite direction and down a corridor.

Reaching the top of the stairs Adalinda sauntered down the torch lit hall, walking past each door hoping to feel the Prince's presence. The servant caught up to her and huffed to regain his breath.

"_Please_," he tried.

"_Which one is his_," Adalinda interrupted not taking her eyes from the hall. When the boy did not answer she threw a dark look his way. He stiffened and pointed to the last door to the right. Satisfied, she stormed down the hall followed by the servant to the last door and knocked. A few moments passed before the hand carved wooden door opened, revealing the Prince sporting a lecherous grin.

"_Good evening, little temptress_."


End file.
